


Red Reception

by freckledandspectacled



Series: Mr. and Mr. Cobblepot [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Happy Ending, He's my favourite okay, I Like Hurting Ed OTL, Jealouswald, Kissing, Love, M/M, Murder, Pre-Slash, Protectiveness, Psychopaths In Love, Weddings, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/pseuds/freckledandspectacled
Summary: When an unwelcome interloper crashes their wedding reception, Edward and Oswald work together to eliminate the threat (with a little help from their friends, enemies, and frenemies). Watch this power couple in action as they do what they do best and turn a worst-case scenario into a clean execution.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering where Harvey is, he was stinking drunk and Jim called him a cab. No actual Tweeds were harmed in the making of this fic. As of now, this is unbetad.  
> Enjoy.

With a crash and the screech of tires, the french doors at the other side of the ballroom are shattered. A familiar limo rams through them and into the room, coming to a squealing halt. Out of the driver’s side steps a man in a top hat, his eyes gleaming with madness. Jervis Tetch.

People make a mad dash for the doors, backing away as four Terrible Tweeds step through the only two exits, securing the doors behind them. With two armed Tweeds on a door, no one risks trying to get through. Edward notes this with disappointment. He’s going to have to replace a lot of security.

“Sorry I’m late, I simply could not pick out the perfect gift,” Jervis cackles. Behind him, more Terrible Tweeds emerge from inside of the limo, heavily armed. Eight total, bringing the tally up to a dozen in the room. Fantastic. “Now where’s the happy couple?”

“What do you want?” Oswald calls, stepping through the crowd to face him. Ed follows closely behind. If Jervis’ Tweeds found an alternate entrance into the mansion, that means that every man they had stationed outside of the hall is either dead, incapacitated, or unreachable. The only personnel they have are in the room. There are eight guards total, but any interference on their behalf would mean an exchange of gunfire, and the hall is densely packed. Many of their guests would certainly die if anyone opened fire. Ed does a quick tally of the cops in the room, but many of them are not carrying. It’s an unreliable estimate. He dismisses that option. Securing their cooperation would be difficult even if they did turn out to be armed; there is still much resentment for him at the GCPD.

Victor Zsasz is present, formally accompanying Falcone at the moment as his most recent buyer, through he is also here because of ties to Edward and Oswald. Yet, because of Zsasz’s current loyalties, he had been divested of his weapons, as had the other criminals in the room. Ed knows he’s a whiz with knives, but the only implements about are steak knives, and just how many Tweeds can Zsasz take out with only his knives before the Tweeds manage to kill someone? It’s not a good bet either. He most likely will not be able to take out two Tweeds before they fire a single shot.

Reevaluate: There are a dozen tweeds total. Two at each exit, of which there are two. Leaving eight tweeds around Jervis, who had emerged from the limo. If each of their guards make the shot on their man, without return fire, it leaves four Tweeds, and Jervis. Zero percent chance of casualties from the eight around Jervis: it’s the four that remain that are the real issue. Zsasz could take one, Jim Gordon another, Alfred the third. This maintain the zero percent retaliation, but one Tweed remains. Ed has nothing to fight with and knows he can’t take on the last successfully on his own, but he needs Oswald to distract Jervis….

This strategizing happens for Ed in a split second. He comes back to the present as Jervis answers, “I never received my invitation, I assume it was lost?”

“You weren’t invited,” Oswald says, his tone cruel.

“I’m putting you back in Arkham,” Jim Gordon calls, pushing his way through the crowd. Oh, crud. 

Jervis is obsessed; Jim won’t be able to break away from this conversation without setting Jervis off, which takes him firmly off of the playing field. Ed reassess. If Jim keeps Jervis distracted, himself and Oswald can certainly take a single Tweed down together without incident, now that he has Jim to distract Jervis in lieu of Oswald. There would still be one remaining Tweed, by this estimate. Edward and Oswald have simply replaced Jim. 

The mob bosses in the room can’t be expected to fight, nor the civilians. He can’t trust the representatives from the GCPD to even be armed, and the odds are extremely low that they’ll even listen to him….

Oh dear.

He knows who he has to ask. Oswald won’t be happy.

“Ah, just the man I wanted to see,” Jervis titters. “No offense to the grooms of course, but ultimately, I’m not here for you. I’m more interested in your best man.” Ed is unsurprised, this was never about the party. Ed has good intel on Jervis’ obsession with Jim, but he didn’t anticipate the man busting out of Arkham, let alone crashing his wedding. Gotham never follows his contingency plans, it seems.

“Oh goodie, Jimbo couldn’t settle for ruining his own weddings, he had to start branching out,” Ed mutters. Oswald glares at him. ‘ _Not the time, Ed._ ’

“What? You know I don’t like him, Ozzie.” Oswald rolls his eyes, turning to watch the interloper as he faces off with Gordon.

“What do you want, Jervis?” Jim says.

“I have a plan,” Ed whispers, resolving to let Jim and Jervis go at it. Oswald tilts his head. It’s a subtle gesture, but Ed knows he’s listening intently. He speaks quickly, “We have eight men in the room, the Tweeds around Jervis are sitting ducks lined up like that. Our guys are good, they’ll make the shot. Alfred can handle one at the door, Zsasz the other. You and I can take another down together.”

“There’s one left, Ed, who else do we have?” Oswald says under his breath.

“I want you to pay for what you did to my dear sweet sister; for tempting her away from me when I hired you to enlist her.”

“Oh, you rhyme? That’s cute,” Ed deadpans, momentarily distracted from the conversation. Jervis scowls at him before turning back to Jim.

“Ed, we can probably count on Zsasz to take two-”

“Before they kill anybody?”

“Well, what do you have in mind?”

“You aren’t going to like it.” Ed winces.

“Tell me.”

“Barbara Kean’s little trio.” Oswald groans, putting a hand on his face.

“They’re aren’t any other options?”

“Not that I can think of.” Oswald pauses for a moment to think.

“Alright, fine. Get everyone into position with their orders, I’ll stay here and meet you by the closest exit. If we're both missing Jervis may get suspicious. When it’s done, send someone to get me.”

“I love you,” Ed says, pecking his cheek.

“I love you, too,” Oswald answers as Ed vanishes into the crowd. 

Ed picks his way through the crowd to their head of security, taking his coms and discreetly radioing each of their men. He assigns them each a Tweed take out, their line-up around Jervis making them easy targets. The guards navigate through the crowd, blending in as they take up position, giving themselves a clear shot at their individual targets but not revealing themselves. Their esteemed guests part for Ed as he moves through the crowd, giving assurances as he goes.

Ed zeroes in on Falcone’s set-up, “Zsasz, I need a favor.”

“Does it involve killing people?”

“Yes.”

“I’m in.” 

Ed fills him in on the plan. Falcone watches Ed, observing without comment. It makes him a little nervous.

Once Zsasz is caught up, he works quickly to make it through the crowd to the kid’s table. Jervis is looking increasingly agitated, and Ed wants to make a move first. He doesn’t trust Jim to distract Jervis for long before the madman’s temper gets the better of him. Ed walks over to where Barbara Kean, Butch Gilzean, and Tabitha Galavan are seated.

“Do you want to make it out of here alive?” he asks. For a moment it looks like they want to refuse, but Ed knows they have no weapons and that they want to leave unscathed. Self-preservation has always been their primary instinct.

“What do you want, string bean?” Butch sneers. Ed decides to let it slide. He needs their help, and if it makes Butch feel better to bully him then that’s fine, as long as he ultimately gets what he wants.

“I need the three of you to work something out, I don’t care how. You only need to take out that Tweed on the right, rear exit, on my signal. Can you do that?” The response is a collective eyeroll. It’s too easy for them. They’ll do it simply because Ed suggested that they couldn’t handle dispatching a single man. He knows this.

“Done,” Barbara says. No surprise. “What’s the signal?”

“Gunshots.” He leaves them, circling back to a table hosting Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle and Alfred Pennyworth.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Alfred.”

“What the plan, then?” he asks. It doesn’t come as a shock that Alfred knows he has a plan. He was always a little sharp for a mere butler. Ed knows he has military experience, and he has received solid information that the man is still excellent in combat.

“I have formulated a strategy that will allow us to take out the Tweeds in such a way that, hopefully, no one gets hurt. Your part will be disarming and detaining the Tweed on the left at the rear exit.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Edward. When should I execute?”

“Either when the Tweeds make a move, or you hear gunshots.”

“Right then,” he says, giving a nod. “You stay put, Master Bruce, back in a jiffy.” Alfred heads off to take his position.

“Good luck,” Bruce mutters, and is he _pouting_? 

“I also have a task for you, Miss Kyle,” Edward says, turning to Selina.

“Whatever, as long as I don’t get shot at,” she says flippantly. Ed gives her a tight-lipped smile.

“That’s the general idea. I need you to tell Oswald that the plan is in place.”

“Fine,” she says, and if possible Bruce’s pout gets deeper as his companions leave him. Selina heads over to where Jim and Jervis are locked in a battle of wits. Jim’s doing a fine job of stalling, at least. Ed can’t hear what they’re saying from here, but Jervis has his gun aimed at Jim. Whatever Jim is saying to him is working wonders. Oswald could have left as well and Jervis would have been none the wiser; his attention is focused entirely on Jim.

Ed makes his way back to their head of security, “We’re good to go, radio the boys to open fire when the Mayor and I move in on our Tweed, or if they move first.”

“You got it, boss,” he nods, watching as Ed walks to the nearer exit. Ed stand on his toes, checking the other exit again. He spots Alfred, Butch, and Tabitha hovering in the crowd near the back exit. Ed passes Zsasz as he places himself in the crowd near the other two Tweeds, snatching up a steak knife from the table as he waits for Oswald. 

Oswald comes up beside him, “Ready?”

“Do you have a weapon?” Ed asks. Oswald swings his cane, light flashing off of the sharp handle. Of course.

A gun goes off, and the crowd panics, screaming. Ed turns to see that Jervis has taken a shot at Jim, who has moved in to go hand-to-gun with him. The Tweeds around Jervis quickly cock their weapons to defend their boss, and just as quickly, they fall. Each one is taken out very cleanly, with a bullet to the brain. Oswald’s hiring standards are very high for marksmanship.

The remaining four roar with rage, pointing their guns into the crowd. Ed trusts the others to follow the plan, moving in to take down his and Oswald’s target. Ed rushes in first, pointing the large man’s gun at the ceiling as he jerks his arm to the side, trying to give Oswald an opening and prevent the Tweed from firing into the crowd. He lifts his knife, attempting to plunge it into the Tweed’s arm so that he’ll drop the weapon. He knows the Tweed will expect a body shot and will likely be quick enough to block any attempt at a fatal stab wound. Ed’s chances of landing a fatal blow are slim to none, and he takes the more likely option.

The Tweed is fast, anticipating Ed’s move as he sees the knife flashing. He catches Ed’s wrist, crushing it in his strong grip and bending until Ed’s forced to drop his only weapon. So much for probability. Ed struggles to keep hold of the Tweed’s gun in his other hand. He screams, his wrist feels like it’s breaking and the Tweed’s gun is leveling off; the other man is far stronger than Ed. He lets go of Ed’s wrist once the knife drops and punches him hard across the face. 

Ed drops to the floor like a rag-doll.

Oswald moves in while the Tweed is distracted. After leveling that blow across Ed’s face he leaves his neck exposed, his arm dropping low. Oswald wastes no time, swinging hard at the thug. The sharp beak of his cane sinks into his throat, hooking deep. Oswald pulls, kicking him back, and the razor edge of Oswald’s cane tears through his flesh as he reels backward in shock. Oswald picks up Ed’s knife, dropping on top of his rapidly dying quarry as he bleeds out. Oswald raises the knife. 

“No one!” he yells, plunging the knife in once.

“Touches!” twice.

“Him!” thrice.

He leaves the knife where it is: sticking up, lodged deep in the Tweed’s heart. The man is very much dead, now. Blood pools under his neck and spreads out across his chest.

Oswald gets off of the corpse, crawling over to Ed, who is still sprawled on the floor. Blood spatters his face and suit jacket. Oswald isn’t sure he looks much better. His eyes are closed, and a small cut is across his right brow. Oswald hand trembles as he reaches out to touch his face.

“Ed? Eddie, baby, look at me… ED!” His eyes flutter open.

“We haven’t even been married a day and you’re already yelling at me,” Ed mumbles, pushing himself up onto his hands. Oswald pulls him into a hug, his hands running over Ed’s back, patting him down for reassurance.

“Are you okay? Oh, Ed. Your face… Your arm!” Oswald says as he pulls back to asses the damage. He doesn't like what he sees. Oswald wishes he could have killed that cretin even _harder_ ….

“My head hurts, my wrist is bruised. But I’m alright, Oz, really,” Ed says, trying to reassure him. He notes the way that Oswald has stiffened, his eyes burning with rage. Ed doesn’t fault him. If it was the other way around, he would feel the same.

“What happened, why didn’t you wait for me?” Oswald demands. Ed never rushed in like that when they worked together, he usually waited for Oswald to make the first move. It had caught him off guard.

“Would you believe me if I told you I thought he wouldn’t hit a guy with glasses?”

“ _Edward Nygma_ ,” Oswald warns.

“Edward Nygma _Cobblepot_ , now,” he corrects, unable to help himself. Oswald’s stare does not lose its intensity. He remains silent, waiting for a real answer. Ed sighs.

“I wanted to give you a better opening... so you wouldn’t get hurt,” Ed admits. In hindsight, disrupting their usual modus operandi probably wasn’t the best idea.

“That’s ridiculous, Ed, you know I can handle myself,” Oswald would have been insulted if the sentiment wasn’t so touching. Ed knows this from the softness in his voice, he understands that Oswald isn’t angry with him. He may even be somewhat flattered.

“I guess love makes me a little ridiculous, sometimes.” Ed says, staring adoringly up at Oswald. Oswald sighs. He could never be this hopelessly in love with anyone else.

“Where’s Tetch?” Ed asks, looking around.

“I’ve got him,” Jim says, emerging from the crowd. Jim marches the man in question past them, his face bruised and his wrists adorned with cuffs.

“Now wait just a minute,” Oswald growls, seizing his cane and making to stand and go after them.

“Not now, Oswald. It’s too exposed. We’ll get him later, I promise,” Ed says, pulling him back.

“Ed, I love you. And I am going to kill Tetch for this. Right. Now.”

“Stay with me,” Ed whispers, a last-ditch effort to keep Oz from running off and killing Tetch in cold blood in front of James Gordon and countless other witnesses. Oswald never cared about witnesses, that was Ed’s unspoken job. Ed will not allow Oswald to miss their wedding night on account of being thrown in jail.

Oswald’s scowl softens. He cups Ed’s face -the uninjured side- and kisses him gently.

“Alright.” Tetch could wait, his husband needed him.

Lee Thompkins steps through Jim’s wake. She pauses by them.

“How are you feeling?” she asks gruffly, her moral values as a doctor giving her pause and overriding her disdain for Ed. 

“I’ll live,” Ed answers, surprised she even bothered. Their last interaction had involved her punching him in the face herself, after all. Although, she hadn’t managed to knock him unconscious. 

Turning to address Oswald, she says, “Don’t let him sleep tonight.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Doctor,” Oswald replies, grinning salaciously. Ed feels heat come to his face. Dr. Thompkins had been his co-worker, and Oswald’s implication still felt like something wildly inappropriate to say to his former colleague. Ed reminds himself that it’s not like he’ll have to walk into the GCPD tomorrow to everyone’s stares. That time in his life is over.

Her eyes widen and she nods, following Jim through the exit. Some of the cops in the room start taking statements, getting numbers and telling people to go home. Edward and Oswald decide to let it go. They don’t care to say farewell to everyone.

Zsasz walks by, a childlike smile on his face. “Best wedding ever!” he gushes, practically skipping after Falcone. His hands and sleeves are soaked in blood. At least someone had a good time.

Tabitha struts by, her face spattered in blood in a similar fashion to Edward and Oswald. Butch and Barbara trail after her, equally love-struck looks on their faces.

As Tabitha leaves she remarks, “I still hate your guts, Nygma.”

“Likewise,” Oswald answers. Her crimes have not been forgotten, or forgiven. They disappear through the door. Oswald grabs his cane, pushing himself to his feet. Ed stands as well, swaying slightly, enough that Oswald notices. He waddles to a nearby table, pulling out a chair.

“Sit down,” he demands, watching Ed like a hawk as he carefully makes his way over to take a seat. Once he is firmly in place, Oswald bends down, kissing him passionately. He could have lost him, might never have been able to do this again. Edward fists his hands into Oswald’s tux, pulling him down to meet his lips fiercely. When they break apart, Oswald runs his thumb over Ed’s bottom lip, then takes his chin between his fingers and pecks him gently. Ed tries to follow as he pulls away, chasing the kiss.

“I’ll be right back,” Oswald says under his breath.

“I’ll be right here,” Ed answers.

Oswald makes his way over to the Lieutenant officer present, “My husband and I will be retiring. Talk to my head of security concerning the scene, clean-up and dismissal of all parties present. See our secretary about contacting us for statements and further judicial matters.”

“Will do, Mr. Mayor. You have a good night, now.”

“We will,” Oswald answers, smirking. The Lieutenant realizes the implications of his farewell too late, stuttering as Oswald turns to head back to Edward.

“Ready?” Oswald asks, offering Ed a hand.

“Of course,” Ed says, taking Oswald’s hand as he comes to his feet. “Alfred came to say goodbye.” 

“Oh, really?” Oswald grumbles.

“Yes, he’s very charming,” Ed teases. Oswald’s lips tighten, and he doesn’t respond. Ed loves riling Oswald up. Jealously generally means great sex when it comes to his new husband, or so he’s learned. 

They make their way through the rear exit, taking note of the carnage Tabitha and Alfred caused. Not a single Tweed made it out alive. Ed’s not surprised that Alfred’s a killer, what with his military background. Even so, no one ever makes casual conversation with him if they aren’t killers. That’s something to think on another time, though.

Edward and Oswald walk to their quarters hand in hand. They made up the master bedroom on the first floor, within close proximity to their dining room. Ed didn’t want Oswald to have to deal with stairs first thing before breakfast, or after retiring from dinner for the night. They pause before the threshold. 

“So-” Oswald begins, screeching as Ed scoops him up, carrying him bridal style to the door. “Ed! We had a deal!”

“And I’m reneging on that deal. It’s tradition, Ozzie.” He fumbles with the door knob. Should he have opened it first? How did anyone manage to carry someone _and_ open the door? He didn’t want to drop Oswald….

“Could you, um, get the door, Oz?”

“No,” Oswald says, petulant.

“Come on, Ozzie, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” Ed sighs, putting Oswald back down. Oswald can’t stand being carried, but Ed had thought that maybe this once… He turns the doorknob, pulling it open.

Oswald pulls him back, ducking slightly as he moves into Ed, throwing him over his shoulder. He brings a hand around the back of his thighs to hold Ed in place as he sweeps into the room. He pulls the door shut behind them, quickly taking the few short steps necessary to make it to the bed. He tosses Ed onto the mattress, worried about his ability to carry him for too long.

Ed bounces on the mattress, gasping. Oswald has never picked him up before. Ed didn’t think he could; he had never considered it, really. How positively _thrilling_.

“Satisfied?” Oswald says, throwing his bloody cane to the floor and crawling over Ed on the bed.

“Putting me over your shoulder like that is a little more sexually aggressive than romantic, but at least one of us was technically carried over the threshold, so I’m happy,” Ed says in a rush. He can’t believe Oswald did that. It makes him _want_.

“You like it when I get aggressive, though,” Oswald teases, biting at Ed’s lips before smothering them with a kiss. It’s quite true. Ed likes the feeling of being wanted, and nothing displays that so clearly as when Oswald makes love to him like he can’t control himself, like he couldn’t possibly pull away or slow down. Even more thrilling is knowing that if he asked, Oswald would stop on a dime, always putting Ed first when they do this.

Oswald palms Ed through his pants, and Ed moans, ending the kiss. Apparently, this will be one of those times. “Wait, Ozzie, hold on….”

“Hmm?” Oswald hums, his hand leaving Ed’s crotch to brush his hair back. It’s been loosened from its normal style by the fight, as well as Ed's being scooped up and thrown onto their bed.

“We’re filthy, Oswald. I want to shower.” Oswald groans. He’s right, of course. They’ve screwed while covered in blood before, but a wedding night is meant to be different. Pure. They should have sweet, vanilla lovemaking on their wedding night. Oswald supposes that you probably can’t genuinely have that while at the same time being covered in some other man’s blood. _All well_.

“As you wish, husband,” Oswald whispers, kissing him sweetly.

Besides, showers are excellent for foreplay.

**Author's Note:**

> Oswald cannot stop telling people about how he's going to fuck Ed all night and I love it. Tune in next time for the highly anticipated wedding night!  
> As always, comments keep me alive and give me motivation to write for you guys.


End file.
